


No one eat that!

by GamblingDementor



Category: Firebringer - Team StarKid
Genre: Babies, F/F, Fluff, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-26 22:55:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19778158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GamblingDementor/pseuds/GamblingDementor
Summary: In which Emberly and Grunt have a baby. Four times Zazzalil failed to spend time with her and one time she got to.(Yeah, everyone loves babies now)





	No one eat that!

**Author's Note:**

> This is seriously so goofy I hope you'll still like it!

When Emberly gave birth to the first baby born among them in years near the end of a long winter, the tribe as a whole rediscovered that they, in fact, loved babies even when eating them was out of the equation. Little Slippy had been thus named because Emberly and Molag, who still acted the tribe's midwife for all these years on account of her unmatched knowledge, had said the baby had just slipped right out. From the moment of her first cry, she was the most adored and doted on little baby the world might have known so far. Large brown eyes and a little curl of dark hair atop her tiny head, she was curious and beautiful and even though she was smelly and cried more often than not, everyone fought for the chance to look after her.

Zazzalil was no exception. For days and weeks, she tried to earn herself the right to hold the baby whenever she so wanted, to pry it from the loving arms of her parents just for the joy of looking down that pretty little baby face, play with her tiny hands, tell Little Slippy stories of their tribe's adventures from before she had blessed them with her existence. The problem with having only one baby in the tribe and so many adults all hoping to spend time with her, however, was that any moment of quiet bliss was always eventually interrupted. And if not by another adult at first, then by the baby herself.

"C'mere, to me," Zazzalil sing-sang, pulling Little Slippy from the small bundle of furs that was her bed to cradle her in her arms.

The baby blinked lazily a few times, smiling herself out of slumber as she became more aware of Zazzalil. Chubby hands reached out to grab her necklace, the feathers at her shoulders, her face, and Zazzalil beamed with joy for the very short time it lasted. Not one minute had passed that Little Slippy started to wail like her life was in immediate danger, shrieking so loud Zazzalil wondered if she would awaken every beast or human in the entire known world. She tried to shush her silent, to no avail. A little dance for comfort, waltzing around with the baby in her arms, was equally ineffective.

"What have you done?!"

Emberly materialized out of thin air, snatching back the baby like Zazzalil had just tried to burn her alive. With no hesitation, she pulled the top of her dress to the side and shoved a nipple into Little Slippy's hungry mouth. At once all crying was gone and forgotten, of course, and the baby's eyes fixed on her mother's contentedly. Emberly was a picture of happiness and love, her arm holding up the baby so intimately, so flush, the other gently brushing her tiny little bit of hair. Zazzalil, dumb as she was, knew at least that she was not needed this instant. Leaving the hut, she went to find other useful pursuits on her own.

The next time she tried to hold the baby and keep her for herself, a mere couple weeks later, spring was in full bloom and she discreetly made an escape with Little Slippy to find her a little bed of flowers just nearby the village. It was a gently sunny day, not too warm, only mild and pleasant. Her little bear fur laid down in the middle of the flower field, the baby looked like she was discovering blossoming life for the first time − Zazzalil told herself that, confined to the hut as she often was for her protection, that might have been the case. Her little baby hands were grabbing flowers, pointing at trees, at the sky, and Zazzalil could only stare down in amazement and occasionally stop her from eating whatever her baby mind told her to put in her mouth. She smiled and Little Slippy smiled right back.

"A perfect day," Ducker sighed behind her and took a seat on Little Slippy's other side.

Zazzalil hummed in approval.

"Good weather is a blessing from the Duck," he added.

Every member of the tribe had had their own decision to make once Chorn had revealed them the future of all humankind. Smelly Balls had taken it with respect and patience, gladly discussing any further theories with anyone who would indulge him. Molag had vainly tried to elaborate plans to change its course before realizing there wouldn't be any veering away from it. In her resolve, she had simply stopped mentioning it and went on with her dear old life as before. Ducker went one step further and ignored the fact that he had learned any of it in the first place. His faith in the Duck was stronger than ever. Knowing how futile the attempt to convince him otherwise was, the rest of the tribe let him be if he so wished, as long as they weren't made to participate.

"Have you told her about the Creation?" He didn't wait for Zazzalil's answer. "He created the heavens and the earth in seven quacks. Through his mighty power, we…"

That was entirely enough of the Duck for Zazzalil's taste. And of Ducker. She left the baby to her spiritual education and walked away.

Unrequested religious mentor aside, Little Slippy was exceedingly well taken care of. Besides Emberly's near constant watch, besides everyone rushing to be of assistance, she had a loving father who took charge of his parental responsibility to the best of his abilities − whatever those were. He was more keen on playing with his daughter than taking care of her needs but, Zazzalil told herself, happiness and good cheer was a vital need as well. The best part was that, still self-conscious about his status as a former outsider, Grunt was much more inclined to allow other people time with the baby than Emberly. Up to a point.

"Can I hold the baby?" Zazzalil asked him as soon as Emberly was out of hearing range, gone to take a nap in their hut.

He looked more scared than surprised − something about Zazzalil seemed to make him cower, but she couldn't say she cared enough to try and mend it of her own volition. It would have to fade away at some point on its own. If it allowed her special favors…

"Sure," Grunt said, handing over the baby that had just been left in his charge by Emberly. "Careful with her head and…"

But Zazzalil knew how to hold a baby and already she was snuggling her gently in her arms, smiling down. Little Slippy's face illuminated with the pleasure to see her and for an instant everything was right with the world.

Then the baby farted.

Immediately, Grunt zoomed in to check on the baby.

"Is she poopy?" He interrogated, trying to snatch the baby back but Zazzalil held her all the closer. "Did she just poop?"

Disgusted, Zazzalil made a face.

"Erm, I don't fucking know?"

But Grunt, to hell with whatever reserve he had had around her, seized the baby from Zazzalil's embrace. Observing her more closely, he suddenly broke into a satisfied grin.

"Oh, I'm finally gonna get that perfect sepia... It's family painting time, little baby!"

He was gone before Zazzalil could find the time to puke a little.

The next attempt was botched from the start. One early, sneaky morning, Zazzalil pulled open the fur flap that was the hut's door and found Keeri already affaired with the baby. She was making funny sounds and funnier faces to distract her all the while looking very busy at trying to shove Little Slippy into a sling of soft leather she had attached to her chest.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

Keeri turned as if terrified to have been caught, but broke into a relieved grin when she saw that it was just her.

"Oh, hey Zazz," she said, gently toying with Little Slippy's arms to get them to slide in the sling without being forceful about it. "Just taking the baby for a walk in the mountain. You wanna come?"

The mountain was three hours away, doubling that time for the way back, not even counting the walk itself. That was way beyond Zazzalil's ideal hike length, which was closer to a few minutes, if even that.

"Erm, no." Keeri nodded, busy knotting thin fur straps around the baby's tummy to keep her steady. "Keeri, you know you can take a walk just anywhere, right?"

"There's _butterflies_ in the mountain this time of year," Keeri pointed out. "I wanna show the baby. It's her first spring, she's never gonna have another first spring again."

"Alrighty then…"

Keeri left, giving Zazzalil one last wave before the expedition. Minutes later, when frantic Emberly and Grunt yelled out in panic that the baby was missing, she pretended she didn't know where Little Slippy might be, because if she had to die one way or another, it would be another way than at the very hands of worried parents. It was a very long day of devastated whimpers and Zazzalil praying very hard that Keeri would be back soon and safely.

They weren't in vain. Keeri came back eventually and to everyone's surprise (shamefully including Zazzalil), the baby was entirely fine, even refreshed from the little trip. Still, she was put under tighter lock and it was a while before Zazzalil managed to use her almighty chief privilege to sneak her way back into the hut to take a hold of the baby, claiming loud and proud to an observing Tiblyn that she had 'important leader business' to attend inside. It was a more determined attempt than before, even planned if whatever Zazzalil was doing could be considered planning. She took Little Slippy's fur bed with her, a funny rock that was her favorite toy, made sure that the timing was right, just after Emberly left the hut, and off they were, Zazzalil and the smallest member of her own damn tribe, and if anyone had a problem with that, then they'd just have to face her wrath.

"Hehehe," she chuckled to herself, using her mighty powerful chief courage to find a little nook of quiet and solitude and hide away cowardly in there for the foreseeable rest of the day. She _had_ brought snacks for the baby who had just recently started to eat - and a lot at that. "It's just you and me, little baby!"

But Little Slippy started to look like she had other plans. Zazzalil watched in horror the signs of an upcoming crisis of tears, her tiny fists shaking in what passed as anger for small babies, eyes squinting up at her and her little mouth started to open as she squirmed uncomfortably on Zazzalil's lap.

"Oh, no, no, no, no, no..."

She grimaced, puffing up her cheeks in frustration, and the impossible happened. Her anger forgotten, eyes round with fascination, the baby giggled and her little hands reached up, trying to poke at Zazzalil's cheeks. They deflated with a rumbling fart sound, which made the baby laugh all the more.

"You like that, little baby?"

Little Slippy clapped her floppy little hands merrily. Zazzalil grabbed one and blew raspberries against its back, which sent the baby into a giggling frenzy. Once more and she was breathless with it, her tiny chubby face pink with delight.

"You know," a voice came from behind and Zazzalil would have freaked out if it weren't for the familiar weight of Jemilla's hand following on her shoulder, "At the Neanderthals, I became a mother and learned so much about childrearing I'd consider myself an expert."

She sat next to Zazzalil, resting her head on her shoulder as she reached to grab the baby's little hand in hers. Zazzalil leaned her head into her as well and their hands met around Little Slippy's.

"But when I see you with her now, I wonder if you haven't been taking secret parenting lessons too."

Zazzalil huffed softly, nothing too loud that might stir the baby.

"She's just so fucking cute," she whispered.

Jemilla nodded. The feathers of her earrings were tickling Zazzalil's neck a bit uncomfortably, but she would be damned if she let anything spoil the moment, for once in her life she had gotten hold of Little Slippy and gotten away with it. Everything would be perfect, or she would ignore it. A thought came and, although it wasn't perfect, she let it slip out.

"D'you ever…" But it was stupid, even dumbasses like her knew that.

Jemilla leaned up to look at her face to face, nothing but the baby between them, and quirked a questioning eyebrow.

"It's dumb," Zazzalil shrugged apologetically.

But Jemilla's hand touched her face, stroking her thumb across the cheek, and Zazzalil could only smile despite herself.

"I'm fine with dumb," Jemilla said. "Tell me, babe."

Zazzalil pressed her face into the contact, craving for more. She closed her eyes, let out a big sigh, opened them again.

"D'you ever… wish we could have kids? I know we can't," she hastily added, because her dumbassery didn't go quite as far as not to have gotten the basic understanding of the birds and the bees − and how, two bees as they were, or two birds, nature wouldn't go that way for them no matter how passionately or often they would try. "But do you ever like… miss that?"

She had expected laughter for whatever reason but of course, Jemilla was always, always so much better, kinder and more compassionate than she expected, even if her standards kept rising since they had gotten married. She grew pensive at the question and took some time to think it through seriously.

"I do," she said, "And I don't."

"Well, _that's_ helpful."

Jemilla huffed, but she was smiling still.

"I was gonna explain," she said, nudging gently. "Yes, I do miss having kids of our own a little bit. I was a mother for a few weeks and I miss that." She presented her finger to Little Slippy, who wrapped her little fist around it tightly. "Plus, she's so fucking cute I wanna eat her up, even though I know we can't anymore."

Zazzalil couldn't disagree, her little soft limbs, the chub at her cheeks, but somehow, it seemed to her that it was even better to love and dote on her than to eat her. How odd.

"I just fucking love babies," she sighed. "They're really cute and floppy." Another thought came. "Wait, you think we should just steal her?"

Jemilla laughed as quietly as she could.

"Let's hold off from that, babe, I don't want you to get murdered by Emberly just yet."

She grew serious.

"Here's what I think, though." Even Little Slippy was now entranced with her face and any word that came out of her mouth. Jemilla had the rare skill of immediately drawing people's attention to her and holding it. Zazzalil loved her for it. "You're thinking literal babies that we can't have."

Zazzalil frowned.

"What the fuck other kind of babies is there? Dream babies?"

Jemilla snorted. She tickled the baby's little cheeks before answering.

"I'm thinking, you're sitting right here with a baby in your arms."

For the one time that she had managed to do that undisturbed, she thought bitterly.

"Yeah?"

"There's gonna be others. Probably Emberly and Grunt again, maybe someone else. Maybe more outsiders are gonna find our tribe and join us. I hope so. Hell, maybe we'll find abandoned babies out there in the wild who need mothers, who the fuck knows."

Zazzalil just looked at her. Jemilla smiled kindly.

"The whole tribe is our family," she said. "All the babies are ours too, in a way, because this is _our_ tribe. They'll also be growing up and learning our values and they'll be our descendance all the same. Babe, we're the leaders of this shit."

Zazzalil returned her smile shyly, but sighed.

"That's super cool and shit," she said, "And wise, I guess. But sometimes I just simply wanna hold a baby like this."

"Well," Jemilla said, hugging her tighter from the side before loosening her hold entirely. She gave her a kiss on the cheek, another on the lips when Zazzalil turned to her. "I've got work. I'll leave you here with your... other occupations and you can hold her as long as you want. Later, babe."

She stood up and was just leaving but Zazzalil called out to her before she was too far and talking to her too loud might upset the baby.

"You won't tell 'em where I'm at, right?"

"Cross my heart," Jemilla promised. "I'll cover you."

She watched her go after blowing Zazzalil one last kiss. When she turned back to the baby, she found her staring up at her with tired little eyes.

"She's pretty great, huh?" She touched Little Slippy's cute round cheek and was rewarded with the world's smallest yawn in reply. "But you're not bad yourself." The baby squirmed softly, looking very cozy. "In fact, you're the _best_."

For the first time in her life, their tribe motto made complete sense to her. Maybe it was what Molag had felt when she had come up with it. The thought came that their old leader had never mothered a child of her own either. And yet here the tribe was, thriving and growing and the marks of her guidance on Jemilla were still running deep to this day. Zazzalil stared down at Little Slippy. If this was the future they had ahead, she was all for it. It was more than enough. It was the best.

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment if you've read this and enjoyed!!! Please!!!


End file.
